


Alternate

by SummonerStarlight



Category: Blaseball (Video Game), Chicago Firefighters (Blaseball Team) - Fandom
Genre: Blaseball Season 13 - The Expansion Era: Home Free, Gen, feedback
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 15:40:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30141780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SummonerStarlight/pseuds/SummonerStarlight
Summary: A series of short stories about various Blaseball players affected by the "Alternate" Modification and what that means to them; as well as expounding on the various definitions of the word.
Kudos: 3





	Alternate

**Alternate**

**_adjective [North American]: taking the place of; alternative_ **

* * *

Edric takes his time finding an alternate way back to the Pocket.

Really, he ends up getting lost after dipping off from the group. _That’s fine_ , he thinks, he needs some alone time. He dips under a bridge, finding a dry spot in a little alcove to sit down. He pulls a metal lighter out of his jacket pocket and flicks it open, eyes trained on the flame. He runs his thumb absentmindedly over the engraving of the Firefighter’s flame and he wonders if the team would be disappointed.

A chill wind blows a flurry of snow past the alcove entrance. Edric listens to the ka-thunk ka-thunk of cars driving over the bridge above. _There are no cars in Chicago,_ he thinks passively. He’s trying not to think about the pit in his stomach. He’s trying not to think about how much the tiny flame of the lighter makes him want to cry.

He’s trying not to think about how much he misses Chicago.

He lets his thoughts wander back to the flame. He feels the gentle tug of the Call still there, still wrapped around his heart; but there’s something else too. There are the quiet embers of another flame, of another place, of another time. The lighter makes a very satisfying clink when he opens and closes it, and each time he hears the noise the embers stir and spark.

_What if you just burned it all down?_

The voice that slithers through the smoke in his heart sounds like his own, but he prays that its not. He pictures the quiet mountain village in flames taking his anger and frustration along with the cabins and ski lodges. He pictures the snow melting into chilly puddles. Tears burn at his eyes and his anger claws at his heart. It would be just too easy.

He flicks the lighter open again and stares deep into the flame, and just then, a car passes by with the windows open. Static filters down to his hideout and he swears he can hear his name. The string he pictures as the Call tugs gently at his heart. He frowns. A warm tear falls down his cheek and he’s suddenly aware of just how cold Breckenridge is. He wonders if Agan feels like this. If Agan’s chest feels hollow and empty. If Agan is angry and scared and alone.

He wonders if this is how the other Edric felt.

He’d never really considered it before; this wasn’t his first time as a replacement. What had been so different about that? What had been so different about leaving Deerfield behind? The wind blows by again and he finds himself shivering. He takes another look at the lighter and then around his hiding place. The area is mostly stone, so it shouldn’t hurt anything. He pockets the lighter, stands up, and starts scrounging around. Breckenridge is a little more rural, a little more wild than he’s used to. Fortunately, that makes finding safe things to burn a little easier. For a time, his mind is swept away from his feelings and set on the task at hand. He could just go back to the Pocket, but that felt too easy somehow.

He smiles at his pile of burnables; arm-fulls of sticks and leaves and paper. He makes a little circle of rocks for containment and gets a little fire started. Some of the materials are a little wet from the snow, but he manages. He takes a moment to feel pride in the little flame as it casts his shadow on the wall behind him. His thoughts wander back.

He wonders if the other Edric is okay.

It’s been a long time since he’s thought about the other Edric; about the person he must have exchanged with. The team didn’t talk about him much, but that hadn’t stopped Edric from digging into it. “Destined to play” he remembers reading. So good and so destined that Tyreek Olive went out of their way to bring Edric onto the team. Edric snorts. Tyreek Olive. He’s never had the opportunity to meet the legend. He’d resented that about the other Edric at first; that he was sought out for their little found family.

For _his_ little found family.

Edric sniffs and roughly wipes his face with the jacked of his uniform. He turns away from the fire and looks at his shadow. It’s curled up in a huddle, and the sight of it only adds to Edric’s heartache. _The other Edric would be fine._ He hears his thoughts like they’re coming from somewhere else. They echo off of the walls and flicker with the struggling fire. _He’s probably whipped the Firestarters into shape already._

Edric’s mind wanders to his time spent at Chicago. Maybe...maybe it was better to be here in Breckenridge. The Firehouse had been nice, everyone had been kind...but why? Were they just pretending? Or did they think they hadn’t really lost anyone? He shakes his head. They had though, they had to know that he and their Edric weren’t the same didn’t they?

They had to know he could _never_ be that Edric. He looks out to the creek running under the bridge, frozen over. The wind blows through the trees. A squirrel darts past. The cars go ka-thunk ka-thunk overhead. Maybe this is a chance to not have to be that Edric. Maybe here, he just has to be himself.

Maybe Breckenridge could be a fresh start to figure out what that even means.

He looks down to realize he’s been pacing.

He looks at his footprints in the dust of the alcove and traces back over them. A smile creeps onto his face. The snippet of a car radio plays overhead. He shuffles around in a little rhythm to the sounds of Breckenridge. He hears his name again in the static on the wind. It gives him pause, but his smile doesn’t falter.

That was something they had in common.

Edric’s (both Edrics’) passions hadn’t really been Blaseball. They hadn’t even been firefighting. They had something else before that. Now, maybe, was a good chance to try again. He hears the music again, faint in the distance, and with no one but the fire watching, he starts to dance.

He gets lost in it for the first time in a long time. He doesn’t notice that the music doesn’t seem to fade until he’s finished. He breathes hard, his breath fogging in the frigid air.

He hears the applause.

Edric turns. Steph Weeks and Conrad Vaughan are standing there with their instruments.

“You’re very good,” Steph says with a smile. Edric blushes, but the frigid air passes it off as a result of the cold.

“How did you find me?” Edric asks. Steph gestures at the smoke from the fire. Edric looks and blinks. “Okay, no, yeah that’s fair,” he says.

“We should go,” Conrad says.

“Yeah, it’s a bit cold...” Edric says. He turns to put out the fire.

“No,” Steph says with s chuckle. “Because that? Is a Troll Cave.”

**Author's Note:**

> Transformative works note: I don't own Blaseball so like...do what you'd like with this work.


End file.
